I'm your typical ex-con out on parole, living on welfare, using some poor girl with a bad-boy complex for her flesh and car. Unfortunately, I can't find a job. Mostly 'cause I'm not looking.
I’m your typical ex-con out on parole, living on welfare, using some poor girl with a bad-boy complex for her flesh and car. Unfortunately, I can’t find a job. Mostly 'cause I’m not looking. People ask me for a resume and I pretty much don’t have one 'cause I’m 31, spent six years in prison and didn’t graduate college until I was 25.
In the past, I’ve dabbled working in various restaurant positions but the hours are too demanding for me at this point in my life. Plus, that’s where the drugs and customers live. I was under the impression that my drug-dealing skills were unfuckwithable, but I landed myself in jail a few times, so even a thick-headed stubborn twat like myself can admit that it’s time to leave that shit. That’s the important thing… for the first time in my life I’m actually trying to live within the legal system. It's tough.
Jail didn’t really teach me shit, except that I hate a lot of people (including myself), I suck at buffing floors, and that lifting weights is about as fun as it looks. I also endlessly talked on the stress-box (aka phone) trying to be relevant in NYC when I was stuck on the Canadian border, but I failed rather profoundly so I’d say my phone skills semi-suck. My one accomplishment was I successfully turned my anal cavity into an undetectable carrying case for muchas drogas. The circumference of my buttpocket doubled in a couple years time, so I’d say I’m willing and eager to learn.
Unbonrably, I have to admit I turned a little milquetoasty 'cause those dangblasted porkchop cops have so much control over us in there. I’ve started to shed the sheep’s clothing since my sweet release, but I’m pretty sure I’d be obedient to a bully boss jus 'cause I’m used to doin' the robotic “yessirrr!” Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend I’m locked up and being told what to do and having everything done for me. It’s kinda like that on parole and welfare, too, I guess. I need a job, though- it’s been 3 months of nothing but fuckin, suckin, shitting and eating.
Therefore, I’ve dwindled down my options to the following: life coaching, subway massages, personal assistanting, and pornographic muse. I thought long and hard about these possible professions, and hope that anyone reading this article with experience in these areas will assist me. I need a legit paycheck, so I need a boss (aka pimp) to keep parole satisfied. Here are my pitches for employment:
-I will be the best Life Coach out there. I make really good eye contact, have no problem holdings hands, and have perfected lying to people’s faces to make them feel like everything is okay. I have the added advantage of also going the authentic “don’t do what I did” route. Plus, I have awesome abs, bulging biceps, and an obsessively manicured face to make me appear like my shit is on the ball tight, but lesson #1 from the Life Coach is “looks can be deceiving.” I really just want to sit down and talk to hurting people and charge a dollar a minute. I have the powers to make the average Joe or Suzy feel better about themselves. Giving great advice is a talent of mine, and I’m smart enough to know exactly what to do, I’m just too stupid and undisciplined to follow my own itinerary.
-I used to dabble in subway massages. I’d get twisted and offer foot rubs to bonerable broads for donations. I made some money, but after a couple harsh critiques I lost the confidence to pursue this occupation full force. I often think about getting a female partner to do pole dancing in the subway cars. I’m positive a sexy scantily clad senorita would make mucho money doin' the booty-pop and the environment would be enhanced with me giving heart-felt massages on the side.
-Recently, I met a personal assistant to the stars who made really good money doing relatively easy work. I could do that no problem. Anyone famous reading this who wants a personal assistant to handle their everyday affairs, please contact me. You won’t be sorry. I’m a very hard-worker, I’m charming, and will stroke your ego 'til my arms fall off. And you and your spouse can fuck me for free.
-Lastly, I’ve been contemplating the job title of pornographic muse. I do some pretty kinkyfreaknasty stuff behind closed doors, and I’d like to share my inspiration with the world. However, I don’t really have porno-star holdout, or cum-on-command talent, and, truthfully, I don’t really spray semen… I’m more or a slow-sauce dribbler, so I’m not confident that I could really satisfy the viewers, which is sad, 'cause I imagine most viewers are men, and really, what pleasure do they get from seein' a dude spunk globules of snot all over some poor girl’s face? So that reduces me to merely a pornographic muse- I’ll tape my own personal episodes and then some producers can hire talent to act out my passionate acts of sexual savagery.
Or, you can just ignore all of the above and hire me to do anything. I’m DESPERATE for work 'cause the food stamps and welfare won’t last forever. I’ve been attempting to get a decent resume together, but there’s nothing decent about it. I have no experience in anything and I’m now middle-aged… It’s tough to explain. I just spent two years in jail being a garbage man, but I can’t even get hired doin' that right now… I wish we lived in a world where people would realize that my six years in prison were basically my master’s and doctorate degrees. I had time to read about 1,000 books and write thousands of pages of letters. A man can learn tons when for years he just lies on his back, cock-flexing constantly, thinking about nothing meaningful, except for the poo-poo la-la he will someday powerfully penetrate. Too bad no one will hire me to do that.
Previously – Pen Pals Locked Up and Loaded